


Cuban Overture

by ricoaken



Series: State of the Art [3]
Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: it doesn't feature the doctor yet, this is a spin-off ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricoaken/pseuds/ricoaken
Summary: The Time Lord known as the Artist and his friend Eken find themselves on the famous holiday planet Fiesta 95.





	1. Amor de loca juventud

**Author's Note:**

> As usually, every chapter's name is a song which will set the mood of the story.

It could be something strange if anyone knew what and who those two were. But there, inside an ordinary art museum of an alien world, that was just what they were: ordinary. Two children of the stars that ran side to side, laughing and holding hands. Not minding danger, nor minding sadness, for in their eyes it shone only tenderness. The tall young woman with long black hair and light-brown skin was called Eken. She had a beautiful smile and her voice was loud and lively. The small thin man with pale skin and funny clothes was a Time Lord called the Artist. They made a living of traveling in a wonderful spaceship, meeting artists of all times and places.  
– Archie, take a look at this. – Said Eken; her voice echoed inside the almost empty museum.  
– Well, that’s no good. – He answered, looking at the picture, which sat dull on a big white wall. – Look at the lighting, it’s all wrong.  
The animated-painting was composed of three simple items: a man, young-looking, with long-ish brown hair. A chair, in which he sat bored, painted with varnish-like color; and a martini held close to his lips on his right hand.  
– You’ kidding right? – Eken scoffed.  
– What? – He had that characteristic smug smile on his face. – Surely you don’t think it’s a nice painting.  
– Dude. – She directed her right index finger to the painting, almost touching it, positioned on top of the man’s face. – That’s you.  
– What? – He went closer to the painting, a doubtful look in his face.  
– That looks exactly like you. – She smiled.  
– Oh don’t be ridiculous.  
– I’m serious! Maybe it’s from the future.  
– No that’s no me. – He sounded petulant. – I can’t grow a beard like that man.  
She laughed and shook her head in affirmation.  
– Where did you park? – She asked, looking at the front door of the museum, which stood only a few paces across the hall.  
– Across the street, why?

Before he could hear an answer he saw Eken’s long hair moving fast with the breeze. His feet were still pressed down to the floor when he realized that the tall girl in a glittery red catsuit was running with that dull painting under her right arm.  
– Shit. – He said, laughing under his breath.  
The museum’s alarm sounded but both Eken and the Artist were already crossing the exit towards the black Camaro parked across the street.  
As they both got inside a different world revealed itself. Eken had gotten used to the view of the messy console room of the TARDIS disguised as a Camaro. She had come to call the car her home. Inside it looked not like the vehicle, but like an apartment owned by teenagers. A red-ish sofa was beside the wall-sized window, that showed the outside view of the strange planet in which they were. The console of of the Time Machine had paint stains everywhere, and pens and brushes inbetween the many colorful buttons. Everywhere, empty and full canvases laid on the floor. The walls were reserved to many wonderful classic paintings, stolen from time before they were destroyed by fires or natural disasters. Forgotten to history, but not to him, the Time Lord called the Artist.  
– You crazy girl, – he hanged his multi-colored jacket on one of the black tubes that connected the ceiling with the console of the TARDIS. – why’d you steal that garbage?  
– Come on, where’s that gooey thing you used to get us to that bar I loved the other day?  
– Gooey thing?  
– You know, smarty pants. – The goo-finger-thing that felt like I was playing with slime. 

He laughed loud.

– You mean the telepathic induction circuits? – He gestured with his hands as if all ten of his fingers were inside something.  
– Yeah that. – She rolled her eyes.  
The Artist went closer to the console and turned down one or two switches. Under the console, a small door opened and a table-like structure arose from the floor. It was composed of a silvery-metal surface, much like most of the console, but inside it there was a multi-colored a moist, soft, and slippery substance. It did not appear at all repugnant, though. Eken’s eyes shined as she looked at it.  
– No, no, no. – He stopped her as soon as he noticed she was about to do something to the telepathic circuits. – What’s your plan?  
– Come on, Archie, I’m bored. – She sighed, trying pointlessly to get to the circuits.  
– Bored? – He asked surprised. – Hours ago we visited a restaurant which opens literally only one day each thousands of years to make ice-cream out of a comet’s tail; and you’re bored?  
– They didn’t have chocolate! – She scoffed.  
– You wanted a chocolate comet? – He laughed back.  
– Come on; let’s find this guy in the picture. It’ll be fun. – She pointed at the man, still moving slowly with the martini touching his lips.  
– I see what you mean. – He rolled his eyes sarcastically and moved back. – Go on.  
Her lips broadened with a smile as she positioned the painting down the gooey substance. It started to shine and some buttons on the console started to twinkle. The transparent cylinder on top of the console slowly started with a thud, as red and yellow liquid were pumped inside. Three bursts of sound echoed inside. The car vanished from the street. The Camaro which was also a time-and-relative-dimension-in-space traveling machine had dematerialized.  
The muffed sound of a jolly music could be heard outside. Eken smiled at the Artist, who had a smiled that looked like it was forced. He went closer to the screen on the other side of the console and said “huh”. “Huh”? Asked Eken, and she too went to look at the screen.  
– What’ve we got? – She said.  
– Well, bienvenida, señorita. – He said smiling. – To Fiesta Ninety-Five.


	2. El Toro enamorado de La Luna

HOLA AMIGO! Come to Fiesta Ninety-Five!  
[“FIESTA!” shouted a man with an artificial Spanish accent]   
The only place in the galaxy where you’ll get to live the FULL [CON TOTALIDAD, SEÑOR!] experience of 20th Century’s Mexico. [¡ARRIBA!]   
Take a look at these amazing beaches!   
Feel and live the music of the ancient MARIACHI! [LA MELODIA!]  
Visit the BEST [es la major, si!] SPA of the fifth quadrant!  
Learn to dance! [BAILA!]  
Paint! [PINTA!]  
Eat! [COME!]  
FIESTA 95! Elected the BEST Leisure Planet by the Galactic Federation for three times in a row.

The screen shut off.

– Wow. – Said Eken.   
– Yeah. – He shook his head. – Can we go somewhere else now?  
– No, señor! – She gently punched his arm. – It’s going to be really cool, I know it.  
– Shoot. – He sighed. – I just can’t win with you.

Eken exited the Camaro wearing a long red dress, marvelously decorated with embroidery of red roses. Her long wavy hair was up on a ponytail in which a big red flower was placed. The Artist came out shortly after. His dirty cream-colored sneakers were the only thing in contrast to blue suit with sunflower embroidery which he was wearing. “Ready to party?” He asked her. “You betcha.” She smiled back. 

There was not a place in their eyesight that wasn’t composed of colorful decoration and joyful music playing. The sound of drums and guitars and castanets could be heard everywhere where it mixed on a pleasant and cheery mood. All types of peaceful alien races roamed around the streets. Children of blue skin and three eyes ran on every corner playing with kites in the shapes of animals. Two suns shone bright in the sky, but the temperature was pleasant enough, like the air had been custom-made to each visitor of the planet. 

– It looks expensive… – Eken looked worried. – Do we still have money?  
– Seriously? – He laughed. – I have this unlimited—  
But before he could finish that sentence, a small silvery pole arose from the ground and made a mechanic buzzing sound.   
– FUCK! – The Artist shouted, startled.   
– Bienvenidos, amigos! This unity detected you’re in possession of an amazing value of money! – The pole joyfully said in a mechanic voice.  
– OH! – Eken exclamated. – It’s a tourist-helper! We had those back in Drornid.  
– Fucking déjà vu. – The Artist sighed.

Moments later they had entered what appeared to be an enormous hotel. Its attendant was a robot made to look like a colorful skeleton. “Not creepy at all.” Remarked the Artist. “I think it’s something to do with Earth’s culture.” Eken answered. They checked in to a room. Money, as the Artist later explained, was not an issue. He told Eken that every TARDIS had been equipped with unlimited universal credit cards, for scientific purposes, prior to the war. Moments later, both of them sat on straw chairs looking at the amazing view from their porch. 

– So, what’s the plan here? – The Artist asked, untightening his navy-blue tie.  
– You talking about the man from the painting?   
– Isn’t that guy why we’re here?   
– Yeah yeah. – She wondered for a moment. – Let’s follow the odds.  
– What?  
– Yeah, you know, just go with the flow and he’ll eventually come to us. – She smiled arrogantly.   
– Yeah like that ever-- 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to inform that Mr. Tulio Hernez would like to offer every resident a party tonight to celebrate his 26th birthday. As Mr. Tulio said: ‘everyone’s invited as long as they take a smile on their faces and a beautiful lady to dance with him’. Thank you for your attention.” Said a woman’s soothing voice on the speakers of the room. 

– No. – The Artist sighed.  
Eken loudly laughed, almost falling off from her chair.  
– I BET! – She shouted.  
– NO! – He said, laughing and pulling her.   
– I BET THAT’S HIM! – She continued laughing.  
– That’s so cliché! – The Artist smiled and shook his head.

Men and women played their guitars joyfully all around as the night came with said party. People of every different alien species arrived and commented on the amazingly big hall of the hotel. A pool of crystal clear water in the middle of the hall, stairs leading up to a tower of drinks, dancers dressed in characteristic Mexican clothing at every corner; the celebration was indeed beautiful. 

Y ese toro enamorado de la luna  
Que abandona por la noche la manada – Sang the lively orchestra of mariachi. 

– Are you still bored? – Asked the Artist. He had his right arm wrapped around Eken’s left. He did not look at her as he spoke, he looked everywhere with the observing eyes of the gallifreyan.   
– Calm down, grampz, I’m cool. – She replied, smiling at him and gently lowering her head on top of his.   
– I assume that mr. Tulio will make a big entrance at midnight, right?   
– Ha! You’re already thinking like him. – She smiled, but that smiled quickly vanished as a serious though finally came to her mind. – Archie, do you know him?  
– No, actually. I don’t. – He looked calm as he said it. – I’m sure he’s just a doppelganger. The universe’s a very big place to most, but a very small one to us who can travel everywhere and anywhere.   
– But I mean… that’s your face… right?   
– Well, it all happened too fast when I changed, I didn’t have time to think about it. – He scoffed. – Hell, I must’ve picked it up from somewhere and did not even realize.  
– So you didn’t create that face? – She seemed more curious with each answer.  
– I don’t know. I assume that the Time-Lord brain has the capacity to create a face from scratch, but I’m not that clever. 

They both laughed.

The clock stroke twelve, and just as the Artist had predicted, the band ravenously introduced mr. Tulio Hernez as he descended from the spiral staircase. The man indeed had the exact same face as did the Artist. Everything was there, the brown eyes, the pale white skin, the longish nose. The only thing differing one from the other was that the man called Tulio had a well shaved brown beard to go with the longish wavy hair. He was wearing a modern black shiny suit, embroidered with red roses and gillyflowers. 

– Man… – Eken said, it was clear that she was impressed.  
– What a show off. – The Artist scoffed.  
– That makes two of you… – She smiled.  
– You’re right. I’ve got plan. – He smiled mischievously.   
– What are you doing? – She asked as he was letting go of her arm.  
– Talk to him, girl. Do yo’ thang! If he’s anything like me he’ll fall for you on the spot.  
– Wow, we’re flirting now?

The Artist was already out of sight, lost between the crowd. Eken sighed and put on her best smile, at least she was having fun. The short gala dress which she was wearing made her legs look even longer as they walked slowly across the room. As if the crowd had given all the space for her to walk towards Tulio, she did so. His eyes quickly caught sight of her and were stuck, again, just as the Artist predicted. He crossed the room towards her and picked up her hand. “Señora.” He said. “Hell, even their voices sound the same!” She thought. 

– Who’s this beautiful lady with which the Lord presents me with tonight?   
“Time Lord.” She thought to herself.   
– The name’s Eken. – She blushed as she spoke with a smile. – You must be Tulio.  
– I am whoever you want me to be… – His eyes were the same as the Artist’s, but they did not look at her the same, neither did his voice speak to her the same way.   
– Well, birthday-boy, then offer me a drink and we’ll talk about it. – She spoke sensually, not even realizing until she noticed that she was indeed flirting with the man.

He took her hand gently, not childishly as the Artist usually did, and they both went towards the tower of crystal glasses. He explained proudly that all of that had come from his wealth and fame across the universe. As it turned out, Tulio Hernez was a famous actor of space-operas. Eken spent at least half an hour with him, drinking and laughing, before realizing that the Artist had been gone since then. 

– Eken. – He sipped on a glass of whiskey and smiled back at her. – Would you like to visit my room?  
– Yes. – She said almost automatically. – No. – She came back to her senses. – Wait, what about your party? Your friends.  
– I don’t know any of these people. – He said and showed the hall around with his arms. – They seem fine… But you, señorita, you seem amazing. 

She blushed again and sipped on her margarita. Slowly he moved his hand towards hers and struck his eyes on hers. She felt a mix of emotions because although the man was seriously flirting with her, it was like looking at the Artist doing so. She couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

– What’s so funny? – He asked, smiling too. His teeth were impressively white.  
– TULIO! – Suddenly shouted a voice from across the room.

Both the man and Eken were startled, the music stopped and every single person in the hall looked back at where the voice was coming from. “Oh, come the fuck on…” Eken let out under her breath, sighing.   
The voice was the Artist’s. The Time-Lord was on top of the stair case, holding a big acoustic guitar and pointing at the man called Tulio with his right index finger. His blue suit full of sunflowers shone as the highlights all directed towards him. He had a serious look on, but it was interrupted by the fake moustache that he was wearing.

– WHO ARE YOU? – Shouted Tulio.  
– SOY TU HERMANO! – The Artist shouted back as the spiral staircase descended automatically.   
– My… – He looked confused. – Brother?...  
– ARTUR! – The Artist shouted again. – Your lost twin brother! – He concluded saying with a forced Spanish accent and playing a dramatic quick note on the acoustic guitar, which emanated in the entire hall. 

Then the mariachi shouted in choir and the music started again. Not one of the guests seemed to mind the sudden apparition of Tulio’s long lost twin brother. Eken shrugged and asked for another margarita, she seemed as embarrassed as anyone could be. Tulio directed himself towards the Artist and they both touched their right hands, as if in a mirror. The Artist had on his face a funny expression which consisted of holding up his lips and rising only one of his thick eyebrows. 

– But… – Tulio was confused. – I’m an only son.  
– No… hermano! – The Artist said, dramatically. – Su mama has mentido! Nuestro papa e mama had a fight. They divorced and papa took me to another planet, right after we were born.   
– I see… – Tulio answered in a confused low voice.  
– Isn’t that the plot from The Parent Trap? – Eken remarked, unnoticed by any of the two men.  
– Now, finally I have found you, mi hermano! – The Artist said, placing his hand on Tulio’s shoulder.  
– My brother! – Tulio repeated the gesture and they both hugged.

As they hugged the Artist looked at Eken and smiled sarcastically. She took another sip of the margarita and couldn’t help but smile back.


	3. Nunca vendas tu destino por el oro ni la comodidad

– I can’t believe I had a brother all my life... – Said Tulio, pouring more whiskey into his and the Artist’s cups. – I guess I always felt I was somehow connected to someone else…  
– Yes, mi hermano. – The Artist spoke in a deep and dramatic voice with a forced Spanish accent. – But finally, I have found you… Now, tell me how you have lived… tu vida…  
– Why, brother. Surely you have heard of me, Tulio Hernez, the actor.   
– Oh, yes, hermano. Eres muy famoso. Pero… tell me… what your life has been like, where have you traveled to… 

The conversation was taking place at a vi-area mezzanine, the music could still be heard coming loud and cheerful from downstairs, but the place where they were was quiet, composed simply of a private bar and a big white couch. 

– I have visited the most varied corners of the galaxy. – Smiling he got up; gesturing at all times while he spoke. – Sadly not there’s not one planet that shines as did our home.  
– Si… our home… – The Artist said.  
– Earth! – Exclaimed Tulio.  
– Earth. – The Artist said.  
– Earth. – Eken sighed.   
– Pero… hermano… – The Artist spoke with a curious tone. – Surely you don’t mean the original Earth…   
– That’s my secret, brother. – He smiled.

Suddenly he opened his coat and inside was some kind of machine. It looked made of leather, but buttons and metal could also be seen. 

– No way! – Eken let out.   
– No way what? – Asked the Artist.   
– That’s a vortex manipulator! – She got up and went closer to the machine. – I thought those were like super rare.  
– But yes they are, my dear Eken. – He gestured as if the machine was really impressive. – Property only to the members of the Time Agency.   
– Time Agency? – The Artist asked, almost forgetting his accent.  
– Yes, brother. The Time Agency, the ones who put order in this universe of chaos. We deal with time anomalies. It’s our purpose in this life. – Replied Tulio.  
– But that’s the job of the Time… – The Artist was saying, but he noticed the grave look which Eken directed towards him. – Agents… yes, I see now.  
– Unfortunately, my manipulator has been damaged since two days ago, when I came to this planet and am since then stranded.   
– Tell me, hermano. – The Artist too got up and touched the machine. – If I fix that device for you… would you take me to this… Time Agency?

Tulio looked surprised, but interested. He took the machine out of his jacket’s pin and placed it in the Artist’s hand. “Yes.” He said. “Brother, you are already changing my life.” He concluded. “Y tu, mi vida; hermano.” The Artist replied, looking mischievously at the man.   
When they went back to their room, the Artist took out the fake moustache and placed it on top of a dressing table. He hanged his jacket on a coat hanger on the wall and looked at the mirror with a thoughtful look on his face. Behind him, as he noticed by the view of the mirror, Eken undressed slowly. 

– Time Agency. – He said.   
– Yeah, they’re kind of a “time police”. – She explained.  
– That’s the Time-Lords for you. – He said, sounding stressed out.   
– Archie, I guess that when your planet vanished, someone took their place, don’t you think?  
– I guess.

She sat by his side on the bed, dressed only in black shorts and bra. She placed her arm around his neck and gently pressed her head against his’. 

– Do you want me to get your pajamas from the car? – He asked.  
– No I’m… – She looked down. – Thought I’d… sleep undressed… – She sounded timid.  
– Alright. I’ll go down to the convenience store they have at the other side of the hotel, okay? – He smiled and got up. – I can fix this thing with a screwdriver and superglue.  
– You’re… – She sighed. – You’re not sleeping?   
– No, I’ve slept last week. – He scoffed.

She shrugged and covered herself with the white blankets from the hotel. The Artist exited the room with the Vortex Manipulator in his hands. The never-closing shop ran by robots from the hotel.  
Some hours passed and the sound of the door opening awoke Eken. It was dark, with the light of the moon crossing the window being the only light in the room. “Archie?” She said with her voice low, almost whispering it. Gently he touched her shoulder and she felt his warm lips touching hers. She kissed him back and her hands touched his hips. Barely opening her eyes she kissed him passionately. Both bodies entangled on the bed and made love to one another. 

– Hey. Wake up! – Said the Artist. 

Eken opened her eyes and covered herself. 

– I’ve fixed it, muchacha. – He said smiling, holding up the Vortex Manipulator.   
– Are you giving it back to him? – She asked confused. –  
– Of course I am. I want safe passenger to this Time Agency.

She got up wrapped in a blanket and looked at herself in the mirror. Then quickly turning around she asked the Artist:

– Was it real?   
– What? – He looked confused.  
– Last night. Was it real?  
– Of course it was real. – He looked even more confused. 

She blushed and smiled. Although the Artist seemed too caught up with the circuits of the Vortex Manipulator, he prepared to say something to her, but was interrupted by a strong knock on the door. “Artur!” It was Tulio’s voice coming from the other side. “Open up, brother!” he knocked once more. Eken ran to the bathroom to get herself dressed and the Artist put on his fake moustache. The knocking continued, Tulio seemed in a hurry.   
– Come on, Hermano. Calm down. – The Artist opened the door.  
– Have you fixed it? – He seemed almost out of breath, his suit was still impeccable, but his hair was messy and his forehead sweating.   
– Are you okay? – The Artist inquired.   
– Yes, mi hermano. – He laughed nervously. – I just… Can you…? Have you fixed it?  
– Holy shit. – Eken said coming out of the bathroom in her red glittery catsuit. – You’ve shaved.  
– Oh yeah. – Said the Artist, and only then he realized that the man did not have his beard anymore. – Why’s that?

Tulio’s attention then was directed to the Vortex Manipulator which was on top of the dresser. He ran towards the device, bumping into the Artist’s right arm abruptly. He wrapped the device on his wrist and looked up at the Artist. 

– Drop the act. – Tulio said seriously. – I know you’re not my fucking brother. Who are you?

The Artist slowly closed the door.

– I’m the Artist. – He too had a serious look on his face, although it looked like a joke because of the moustache. – I’m a Time Lord.  
– Cut the crap man. – He had his fingers on top of the Vortex Manipulator. – Time Lords do not exist.   
– And neither did Tulio Hernez the last time I checked. ¬– The Artist replied. He walked slowly towards the man that had the same face as he and looked deep into the eyes that looked like his’. – Now listen to me… – His eyes broad open. – Who are you?  
– My name’s Tephua. I’m a professional bank robber from the 29th Century.  
– Archie what are you doing? – Eken seemed even afraid to ask.  
– I stole this device from a Time Agent that I killed. – Tephua continued.  
– Go on. – The Artist spoke in monotone. – Why are you in a hurry?  
– There’s someone after me. – His forehead was dripping sweat but his voice showed no emotion.  
– ARCHIE! – Eken shouted and snapped her fingers in front of both the Artist’s and Tephua’s face.   
– FUCK! – Shouted the man. – YOU’VE HIPNOTIZED ME!  
– EKEN WHAT THE FUCK?! – Shouted Archie.  
– YOU WERE CREEPING ME OUT, DUDE! – She said. 

All of sudden something exploded outside. It sounded like a bomb and was followed by screams of fear. Smoke rapidly appeared outside of the window.

– Here’s the truth, Time Lord. – Said the man, pressing down the button on his Vortex Manipulator. – You’re fucked. 

He released the button and with a blue burst of light disappeared out of the room. 

– Shit, we’ve lost him now. – Said the Artist.  
– Were you really hypnotizing him? Is that like a super power from the Time-Lords? – She asked nervously.  
– Kind of, it’s like a kid’s thing. We trained at school for fun, I was actually kind of good at it. – He said walking towards the window. – There’s something happening outside, I think we better look. 

They went downstairs to the hotel’s pool area. Many people were quickly grabbing their belongings and running away from the place. As the both tried to make sense of the scene, the Artist placed one hand in front of his eyes and grabbed Eken’s hand with the other. Between the shouting and the smoke and fire, something was moving; a humanoid figure.

– I think there’s someone in—He was saying, but then stopped talking as he realized a red beam of light that shone upon his face.

A robotic voice sounded out of the fire, and the figure seemed to stop walking. Its head seemed to be facing the Artist and Eken, even though they were meters apart.  
“TARGET LOCATED.” It said.

“IDENTIFIED AS TEPHUA RIFFOST.  
MISSION: LOCATE. STATUS: COMPLETE.”

– Archie. – Eken said, and the Artist noticed that her hand was strongly wrapped on his. She was terrified. – We have to go.  
– Why, what’s that? – He asked, looking at her, pale-faced, and back at the figure in the shadows.

From the fire the figure began to walk. It then appeared completely between the smokes. It was a short, thin body, which walked slowly and calmly. Its seemed to be made of malleable metal, and the face was covered by what appeared to be a silvery metal helmet that had no eyes or mouth. “NEXT ASSIGNMENT: DESTROY.” It said loudly.

– That’s a Raston Warrior Robot. – Eken answered.


	4. El Lado Oscuro

The Artist’s legs shook in place a moment before they started to move as Eken pulled him by his arm. She ran without a word after clearing out the name of the machine that had appeared out of the fire. The Artist had not understood it correctly, of course, he tried to think of the things he’d so long ago studied at the Gallifreyan Academy. “Rason Warrior?” He thought to himself without any clue of what the thing was.   
– Eken am I supposed to know what that is? – He finally asked as they ran.   
Eken sweated and panted, she was nervous. They hid behind a table made of marble.  
– A Raston Warrior Robot, Archie. I suppose you could say that... – She paused in between words to breath. – …that we’ll be dead in a few minutes.  
– We’ll what? Calm down girl. – He did not remember seeing her so scared. – Let’s just say who we are and we’ll go back to the car.  
– THE CAR! – She shouted.   
– Hey! Don’t shout, it might hear us.   
– It hunts by movement. – She gasped. – Oh shit.   
– What? – He said and hugged her. – Eken calm down.  
– It might know we’re here. It… likes to… it toys with their prey.  
– Fuck me. – The Artist sighed. 

The robot moved swiftly in the background. It stood still with a straight posture, only its silver head moved from side to side. 

– Can’t you do that thing? – He kept his hands on her shoulders. – The one where your cyborg brain calls the car or something.  
– It takes too long for me to find him; you might be dead by then.

Suddenly someone appeared. It looked like a police officer dressed in black, although its face was made of metal and had a colorful skull make-up painted on, with two big yellow eyes shining. 

– YOU ARE TRESPASSING. IDENTIFY YOURSELF AND YOU MIGHT NOT BE HARMED. – Said the police robot loudly. It did not notice the Artist and Eken sitting on the floor.  
– It shoots the robot we run. – Eken said so quick that the Artist barely understood a word.

Suddenly the police robot exploded in a metallic shout of agony. Fire burst from its chest and the big black machine gun it was carrying fell to the floor. “RUN!” Said Eken, the Artist only caught a glimpse of what happened, for a millisecond after the explosion; the silvery thin legs of the Raston Warrior Robot appeared in front of his eyes. 

– It teleports?! – The Artist shouted as they ran and hid behind another wall.   
– We need to get to the car. – Eken was nervously looking through the window of what appeared to be a kitchen. – It moved as fast as light.  
– Which is practically teleporting. – The Artist answered.   
– Pretty much, but it can’t kill us inside the TARDIS, though, right? – Eken pushed a big oven and placed it in front of the door.   
– Why do you say that? – The Artist sweated nervously. He went closer to the window and looked out of the street where they had parked the blac Camaro.  
– The state of Temporal Grace, right? – She smiled nervously, pulling up the long sleeves of her glittery red catsuit.  
– Yeah… about that…   
– Fuck. – She placed both hands over her face and spoke in a muffled voice. – It’s not real, is it?  
– I assume it is, I just can’t figure out how it works. – He laughed nervously. 

An explosion was heard coming from the other side of the door. They both looked scared through the small circular window and saw the Raston Warrior Robot shooting at the door. It endured the explosion with difficult. “It’s not that strong, is it? The door’s holding up.” The Artist said confused. “Believe me; it would get in if it wanted to.” Eken said grabbing the Artist’s hand. They fled through the exit door and got to the street. 

– Where the fuck is the car? – Eken shouted.  
– Ah! You both. – The tourist-helping pole came out from the ground. – Your car has been towed! – It said joyfully.  
– What? – The Artist shouted.  
– “It's Getting Better All the Time” by the Beatles starts playing. – Eken said nervously. 

Another explosion was heard, that time it seemed to come out of the kitchen.

– WHERE’S MY CAR? – The Artist shouted angrily.  
– It has been taken to the ship deposit in Quadrant Eight of the Acapulco district. – The pole said in its robotic yet lively voice.  
– I don’t understand a thing you’ve just said. – The Artist answered.

A piece of paper was printed from a small opening on the pole’s head. Eken ripped it out and grabbed the Artist’s hand once more. They kept on running out on the street. Eken did not dare to look behind. 

– Amigos! Want to buy some quesadillas?! – Said one man on the street.  
– What about enchilada? – Shouted a short woman at the other side.  
– Hermanos! Come get some tequila! – An old man from inside of a shop shouted.  
– Capitalism is a disease. – The Artist cried panting. 

They stopped running as Eken panted and entered a small alley between two brick buildings. 

– How are you? – The Artist asked her.  
– Fucking tired, Archie. – She said angrily. – I’m sorry; coming here was a bad idea. – She was about to cry.  
– It’s alright we’ll make it back to the car. – He smiled and caressed her face.  
– Archie. – She pressed her lips as she said his name. – Where were you last night?  
– What? – He was confused. – At the shop, fixing that damn Vortex Manipulator, I told—  
– FUCK! – She shouted interrupting him. – THAT MOTHERFUCK—

Eken was interrupted by what sounded like a whistle. The Robot appeared out of nowhere at the other side of the alley. 

– Don’t move. – The Artist said slowly.  
– This is it. – She said with her voice low. – Archie, promise me you’ll--  
– Cut the dramatics. – He said angrily but not raising his voice. ¬– Don’t move. – He repeated.

A few seconds later a man appeared behind them and shouted something about selling burritos. He could not finish the sentence. The Artist and Eken ran as the robot hastened past them and pierced the man’s chest with his silver arm. 

– It wants me but it’ll kill anything on its way. – The Artist said seriously, no emotion shown in his voice.

Tears ran down Eken’s face.


	5. Don´t Let Me Be Misunderstood

Quadrant Eight of the Acapulco District. That was what the guide had said, that was exactly what the piece of paper it had printed described. As the couple of aliens ran past each and every person they encountered, they took notice of every sign that could direct them to that place. “We’ll never get there on foot.” Said the Artist to himself when he noticed how much Eken was panting. 

– We’ll never get there on foot! – He exclaimed.

Another tourist-helper arose from the ground. 

– Why amigo! You can take the Primera Express. The next leaves in ten minutes an hour. – Said the pole.  
– Archie… – Eken sighed. – We cannot. It’ll kill everyone inside.  
– It’s just past that gate. – The pole completed his instructions and faced what appeared to be the entrance of a tall squared building.

The Artist had a grim look on his face and answered nothing to Eken’s remark.

– Come on. – He said and ran through the railway station’s gate. 

The Primera Express was an enormous red train. Its locomotive shone with the bright light emitted from one of the four artificial sun of Fiesta 95. As the loud horn announced another departure, aliens of all sorts of shapes and sizes entered the many wagons with their tickets in hand. The amount of people entering the train was a crowd way too big for anyone to capture sight of the man in the blue suit and the girl in the glittery catsuit. “How the fuck did they tow the car?” said the Artist with his forehead dripping in sweat and anger. “It’s got four wheels, Artist, it’s not that hard.” answered Eken, tightening her hand to the Artist’s. They both entered the wagon without difficulty; the Artist just pressed the credit card to the scanner at one of the wagon’s doors. 

– You’ve got a plan? – Eken asked; her head spinning on lookout for the robot as she spoke.  
– Presumably. – The Artist answered.   
Finally seated inside one of the wagons, the Artist and Eken looked outside the window for any sign of the Robot. It arrived shortly after. Not running, not jumping; but slowly walking towards the train in its characteristic walk that looked like a ballet was in play. 

– It did not kill anyone. – Said Eken, her voice had a mix of relief and fear. – It knows we’re here.  
– Of course it does. – The Artist answered.

The train started.

– How do you know so much about that thing? – The Artist had that question in his mind since the robot appeared.  
– There’s a legend of some war going on back at home; – Eken started.  
– Drornid? – He asked.  
– Yeah. – She continued. – A war, that happened way before, nobody knows exactly when and who fought in it.   
The Artist listened in silence.  
– When I was still in school, we had this homework where we’d supposedly read books. Most of my classmates searched for something on the database and got to class with that, but I wanted to look for a book, an actual book. That’s when I went to a museum for the first time. I found one part reserved for things that were way too old to be taken out of there, and there was this one book. The book was supposed to be about that war, about who’d fought in it, but most of the pages were blank… Except for one that told about that robot. It’s ancient, an unyielding killing machine. Reading about that… I was just a kid.   
– Do you know why the pages were blank? – He asked.   
– What? No.   
– The War. It was fought eons ago, between the first Time-Lords and someone I-forgot-who. There was this one guy, Thorac; he wanted to be Lord President so bad that he established his own High Council of the Time Lords in your planet.  
– Woah. You’re serious? – She smiled.  
He laughed.

Suddenly an explosion was heard. The Artist got up without even looking at Eken and directed himself towards the helping robot at the wagon’s door. Many of the passengers were scared and nervous about the sound they’d just heard, some demanded explanation, some remained seated.   
– I need to get to the last wagon. – The Artist told the robot, his voice was firm and serious.   
– That won’t be possible, sir, please return to your seat. – Said the robot.   
Another explosion was heard. The Raston Warrior Robot was approaching.   
– How about I do it anyway?  
– I cannot stop you sir, as you have paid for your ticket, and it states that anything stupid you do is your responsibility. – Said the robot calmly.   
The Artist walked over to Eken.   
– Help me open the door, sweetie? – He smiled sarcastically.  
– I told you to buy that sonic screwdriver, didn’t I? – She sighed and got up. – Excuse me. – She passed over the other passengers.   
She stood in front of the wooden door, designed to appear one of those vintage wagon doors. With one bump of her shoulder the door opened with a cracked door handle. The wagon was open. Eken tenaciously broke open evey door as they crossed from wagon to wagon, going backwards towards the machine that was hunting them.  
– Fuck, Archie, you owe me a new arm. – She said with a worried face.  
– He’s there. – The Artist said looking through the window of the last door. 

They were in place at what appeared to be the last wagon of the train, luggage and packages sat everywhere. The Artist went to the last door, where a red lever was placed beside. The robot stood still on top of a flat wagon, scanning for movement.  
The Artist placed his hand on top of the lever and looked at Eken. 

– You need to pull the lever. I’m the target. – He said.  
– Exactly, you’re the target. It’ll just shoot you. – She said. – You’ll pull the lever. I’ll be the bait.   
– Fuck, the whole plan was for you to be safe!   
Their eyes met for a second in silence. Both tearing up.   
– Cut the dramatics. – She said.   
They stood still.  
– It’s a very stupid plan, Artist. – She smiled.  
– It’s all I’ve got. – He said, smiling too.  
– NOW! – She shouted.

The Artist’s hand pulled down the lever.  
The door opened.  
The Raston Warrior Robot looked at Eken. It vanished out of sight.  
The Artist’s hand pulled up the lever.  
The door closed.  
The Robot’s head fell hard spinning on the floor. Its body fell outside.   
It all took one second.

– Fuuuuuuck! – The Artist let out, breathing heavily.   
– It worked! – She kicked the metal head, still sparkling with its hundreds of circuits inside.  
They hugged. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The robot’s headless body pierced its silver arm through the wood and tried to pull down the lever.   
– FUCK! – The Artist shouted in a mix of anger and panic.

The train was slowing down.

– Grab it! – Eken screamed looking at the metal head.

The Artist grabbed the head and wrapped his jacket around it. They both laughed nervously as the body of the silver robot kept on shaking its arms in a dumb way. The disoriented robot warrior stayed on the rails shaking its thin arms into thin air. Eken and the Artist walked towards the station and eventually reached the parking lot where the black Camaro sat discreetly in the middle of the most varied shapes and sizes of confiscated spaceships.   
Eken sat on the driver’s seat of the car and pulled the lever of dematerialization. The loud sound of the engine was heard and the car dematerialized into a blue bright light. 

– We’re safe. – The Artist said panting as the head of the robot went from reddish silver to just plain metal. 

Eken sighed and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

– Are we keeping it? – He asked looking at the metal head.

She looked at it and gently grabbed the piece. Placing it on top of the panel she looked at it and sighed once more. She rolled down the window of the car and threw the head out in a matter of seconds. 

– Let’s go to that comet restaurant next. – She said smiling at him.

The Raston Warrior Robot’s head floated away deep into the vastness of space.


End file.
